half of my heart

What hurts most
perhaps only is this moment
when I watch you walk
away from me.
Tell me please:
is it because I am cold,
breathing lifeless breaths beside you?
I am but dust within my grave
without a mouth to speak or
kiss your soul.
Well I am covered with the
finger prints of shallow musings,
so paint me there upon your canvas
in shades of redemption's son.
Clothe me then in linens pure,
and lest I die,
stain me red.

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walk.

I walked through a place where
rainbows run through the water
and even the murky depths sparkle
where the light hits it.
And by the old tire swings
my soul felt real once more;
and where the dirt met asphalt
I kept on walking, well thinking that
all of us are just cycling through reality
though the weather's rather dreary.
Yet ahead upon the road
a bird took breath to fill
her crumpled lungs.
So I kept on walking
leaving footprints wet upon the gravel, glimmering.

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look.

The light is fading outside my window
but behind the curtain
the most beautiful silhouette of a bird
flows through the sheets.
And then for a moment I am well,
content to glimpse the shadows of his wings
singing through the twilight.
And with one flutter he was gone
only for a feather to remain
in the dying sun.
I turned it over in my tarnished hands and
within the weather'd bristles
hope glistened.


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